Pure
by Unlabelled
Summary: During Breaking Dawn many vampires seemed rather attached to Carlisle so here is an explanation :) Also explains Alistair's connection to him even though he doesn't enjoy the other vampires...Maybe vampires do have souls...Probably not historically correct. M for mild violence and child abuse. A STORY THAT HASNT BEEN DONE BEFORE (?)
1. Chapter 1

**Okay so when I read breaking dawn it seemed to me that a lot of the other vampires had a sort of attachment to Carlisle, so I thought I would create my own strange reason why. It's probably not historically correct, so please don't shoot me ;) but I would appreciate your thoughts!**

 ** _Alistair POV_**

Venom swelled is my mouth, it's bitter taste stinging my tongue. I crouched, my muscles flexing, and took a lung full of air. The scent of blood flooded my lungs, burning my throat. The shape of a man slunk along in the shadows, as if he knew the world's most powerful predator watched his every move. I moved soundlessly over the sleet toward his position, the dark of the night concealing my presence. The cold air nipped at any exposed skin, but it created little discomfort for a creature such as myself. Seconds before I leapt at him, I froze. A more pleasant smell hit the back of my throat, completely intoxicating me. It was much sweeter than the coppery smell of the man. Honeysuckle. Honeysuckle mixed with the metallic scent of blood. Someone else was here.  
Yet I heard no heartbeat. Unable to believe my senses would lie to me, I glanced around, standing from my crouch. "Where are you?" I hissed under my breath, feeling as though it was I that had become the prey. "Show yourself." I sunk back against the wall, becoming invisible again, surveying the area. Straining my ears, I heard the soft sound of breathing. A wide smile fixed itself across my face as I tracked the source, creeping along the track in the downpour. Even immortal, my vision was blurred by the mixture of rain and snow.  
That sweet smell was stronger now, and I was almost giddy. Yet, blinded as I was, I almost stood on him. The fire burning in my gut now made me feel ill instead of wanting to feed. The flow of venom ceased immediately and I stared sickly down at him.

One or two, he was defiantly no older. I had never been this close to a child once I was changed and my memory of them was hazy, but somehow I knew he was under fed; his bones seemed startlingly prominent. He lay curled into himself, unsuccessfully trying to shelter under the small eve of the roof. Fine blond hair was plastered to his forehead and even lying in a mixture of snow and mud he seemed pure. His lips were blue and there was no colour in his face. As I watched, both his heartbeat and breathing seemed to dim, becoming even softer until I struggled to hear either of them.  
I knelt beside him. _You are a monster, Alistair. You would've hurt a child_. Coughing once, I cleared my throat of any need to cry. "Where are your parents?" I asked, out of place and bewildered. He offered no response. "Who keeps you, little one?" I hesitated before touching his hand. There was absolutely no heat under his skin. Drawing in a deep breath, I slid off my jacket, wrapping the tiny soul in it and slowing picking him up. I wasn't sure I had ever held something so fragile, but I was sure I couldn't live with myself if I let him die.

He needed help. Every breath was shallow and forced, and I heard liquid in his lungs. I couldn't warm him for I possessed no heat, and all I could do was watched as the life seeped out of him.  
Suddenly I had an idea. My confidence dwindled but I had to. Whatever was left of my conscious forced me to; I could not left this little one die.  
As I walked I practised moving my shoulders as though I was breathing while keeping my lungs empty. My eyes would still be red, maybe darker from not feeding but still red. That was too bad. I had no choice, it had to be done. As I worked myself into false hysterics, I realised my sobs would not be fake at all, but rather a mixture of fear, worry and disgust. _How could anyone let this happen?_  
I ran at human pace, practising staggering as if I too was injured and it was a struggle holding the boy. Eventually the building came into view, both to my immense relief and horror. I still doubted I was strong enough to stand in a room full of beating hearts, especially seeming as I hadn't fed.

I burst in the door of the healers, and was almost overwhelmed by the scent of humans. It seemed to drip from the air, clouding my mind and thoughts. A soft whimper from the child in my arms, the first sigh of actual life, ripped me back into sanity. "Help! Someone please help us!" I cried, hoping that maybe the cracking of my voice would pass for distress, rather than smothering desire.  
There was a ruffling of clothing and a set of heavy footsteps before a plump women appeared in front of me. She took in the pair of us; both soaked to the skin and incredibly pale, but as soon as her gaze landed on him her eyes widened.  
"Our cart- it crashed- please help him! My wife- my wife is dead- please- We've been walking for hours and he's so cold- I can't lose him too," I pleaded tearfully. Guilt tugged at me as I mentioned a non-existent mate, but the more sympathy I got get from this woman the better. I couldn't pay her, but maybe she would take pity. "Please, I beg you; I have no money, but please help my boy." I hoped I appeared desperate.  
"Of course," she agreed quickly, her features twisting. "Come this way." She led me down a tight hallway and into a simple room with rundown bed and an empty table. Immediately after she took him from my arms I felt desolate, watching him being laid down. I winced slightly, wondering if the blanket would irritate his delicate skin. "Doctor!" she called. Soon after a man bustled into the room, carrying an air of authority. He dropped a bag of tools on the table.  
"Name?" he asked, glancing at me.  
"Alistair," I answered automatically, fear shooting through my chest when I realised I should have lied. Suddenly I realised that he wasn't asking my name, but the boy's. Too late.  
"Can you hear me, Alistair?" she asked, stroking his hair off his face as she knelt beside him. He didn't respond.  
"Please help him," I whispered again, involuntarily. I felt sick, the tightness in my throat no longer thirst. _Why do you care? He's not yours._  
"I'll do my best, sir," the doctor assured me. "He needs to be warmed. Do you have a change of clothes with you?" He glanced up at me and I fumbled for a lie.  
"N-no, we lost everything," I stammered, relieved once the words were out of my mouth.  
"Did he suffer a fall in the crash?"  
"I don't know, Doctor. I wasn't conscious." I prayed he wouldn't want to check me as well; the moment he touched me my mouth would be on his throat.  
He just nodded and murmured to the women next to her. She hastily climbed to her feet, wincing as her knees ached in protest. When she appeared again, she nursed an armful of cloth. "Clothes, sir. It's not much, but it's all we can offer. They should fit." She pushed them into my arms, our eyes meeting briefly. She faltered, her mouth falling open and her eyes widening.  
"Thank you," I told her warmly, forcing a smile. "It's greatly appreciated." I ducked my head, looking away so she could no longer see me, but still she stared.  
Rescue came in the form of a small cry from the child as the doctor forced him to sit up. Tears welled in his eyes as he took in his unfamiliar surroundings, quickly overflowing and spilling down his cheeks.  
"Come now, Alistair. Your father is here," the woman chided, stepping out of the way so he could see me properly.  
Unmistakable fear flashed across his face and he shrunk back, sensing the danger of my presence. His rejection stung like salt in a wound and the need to comfort him was overpowering, almost as strong as the immense need for him to love me. _You're a monster. He never will._  
The woman misinterpreted his discomfort. "Shush, you can go to him soon. Let's say we clean you up a bit first, hmm?" She drew a cloth from a bowl of water, starting to wash the mud from his face and arms. Scratches and scrapes littered his skin, as well as dark bruising in the unmistakeable pattern of hand prints. She didn't seem to notice. The next time she rubbed the cloth up his arm, the heavenly scent of his blood flooded the room.  
My throat caught fire and my hand flew to my neck as if to smother the flames. "I-I need to step out, I w-will return…" I trailed off and bolted to the street, sucking the cool air in and out of my lungs. It cleared my head some, but the thirst remained. I needed to hunt; I couldn't face the boy again otherwise.

I dropped the limp body from my arms, hanging my head in shame. The drained corpse hit the forest floor in an undignified manner, almost as ungodly as the way he had died. I dawdled on the way back to the healers, the constant whine of worry lodged deep in my brain; the worry that the boy would look upon my face as nothing but pure evil, seeing the monster that I was. I feared I would destroy his innocence.  
I could not keep him, I knew that. He would need to be returned to his family at once. How I would find them I did not know, but find them I would, or god save me. Another fear played on my mind; could I withstand holding him, his beating heart so close to my dead one, my lips so close to his throat? Would I end up a mindless monster, feeding off the vibrant souls of children?

I prayed not.

 **Please tell me what you think! I will acknowledge your reviews personally :D**


	2. Chapter 2

princessnerra and LadyEudave05 Thank you for your support (:

They'd changed his clothing so he was dry and clean, hopefully warmer, but still he was pale and tearful. Leaning on the doorframe, I watched the woman work, the doctor nowhere to be seen. She glanced up at me, a small smile playing on her lips, sliding off as she took in my appearance.  
"Your father is here, Alistair," she murmured, running her fingers through the boy's hair.  
He shrunk back from her touch, shivering against the thin blanket. He was still white as a sheet, and didn't look much better than when I left him.  
"You may take him now," she instructed me, flinching as she caught my gaze. "I wish you good luck, sir." Another forced smile, no teeth.  
"Thank you. I am forever grateful." My own returning smile was shy, cautious, as I worried over what I would do now. My skills with children were limited. "I will find some way to repay you for your kindness." And I meant it. I _would_ return the favour to this woman and the doctor; without them my small one would be dead. _He's not yours, Alistair._ Offering my arms to the small boy, I stepped forward, trying to prepare him for my touch.  
He still tried to slide from my hands, but was too exhausted to resist me for long. His temperature was warmer now, although his trembling seemed to be worse. I gathered him into my arms, hesitating before gently running my hand up and down his back. His entire body tensed and he moved so his hair blocked my view of his face. Picking up the bag the woman had put the clothes in, I headed back into the weather, trying to shelter the boy inside of my jacket. Within seconds he was shivering from the chill.

This was no place for a child. We were sitting sheltered inside an abandoned house, miles out of any civilisation. It was dark and he was freezing, taking to leaning against me to try and find some form of warmth, warmth that I couldn't offer him. His shaking was so severe his teeth chattered, and within a short time of leaving the healers he developed a cough which seemed to suffocate him.  
"What is your name, little one?" I asked, wondering if he could speak or whether he was too young. His answer came out as a cough anyway. I frowned; I needed help. _He_ needed help. I couldn't take him home if he couldn't tell me, and he was too sick to talk to me, let alone be coherent enough to understand what was happening. _You've made a mistake. He's too young; he cant actually know where he lives_.  
I paced backwards and forwards across the empty room, still holding the child. The motion of my movement seemed to calm him, and within minutes he was fitfully asleep. "I'm so sorry," I whispered to him. He did not deserve to be in this situation; it was my fault. I should never have taken him from the healers, I should have just left and not come back. He needed a home and food, _warmth_ and some form of intimacy I couldn't provide for him. _Jesus, what was I thinking?_

The idea had come to me during the lowest point of the night, when the boy shook the worse and his quiet whimpers broke my heart. Now I stood on the doorstep of my closest friend, although she was more of an acquaintance. Cringing, I knocked softly on her door, partly willing myself to be invisible.  
"Alistair," she gasped, surprised. The expression on her face was neither pleasure nor disgust, but my confidence shrivelled.  
"Siobhan." My voice came out not much more than a whisper. "I need your help."  
She eyed me carefully, her gaze landing on the bundle in my arms. Slowly her eyes widened, her lips thinning out into a disapproving line and she shook her head. "No immortal children under this roof. _Never_ ," she hissed.  
 _Was his heart really that faint?_ "He's not immortal!" I cried quickly. "Please, Siobhan, I need help. I don't know what to do…He is unwell and I can't… I don't know how…" I pleaded, willing her to understand.  
She gritted her teeth, contemplating and listening, before holding out her arms. "Come in," she sighed, taking him from me. He let out a soft cry at the jarring motion.  
"Be careful," I scolded frantically. "He's _human_."  
"Really? I wouldn't have guess." The sarcasm practically dripped from her voice. She disappeared in the door, leaving it open for me, and moved into the sitting room. As she settled into a chair, she sat the child up in her lap, pulling the cloth away from his face to see him better. A reluctant smile crept onto her face. "You are cute, aren't you?" she murmured to him before meeting my eyes. "What is his name?"  
"…I don't know," I admitted stiffly, unable to smile for the fear that she might break his neck.  
She rolled her eyes. "Have you not thought to ask?" Her tone was mocking.  
"He's too young, Siobhan. Can't you see that? How is he going to tell you his name? I can't believe that I thought he could tell me where he lived! He hasn't said a single word since I found him." I sighed, exasperated. "Maybe he is mute."  
She looked at him again. "Well, I think you are just shy, hmm? Are you frightened of us, honey?" Her manner with him was somewhat easier than mine, the awkwardness gone, replaced with some form of mothering instinct.  
"He is cold," I grumbled. "And sick. Don't touch him too much; you'll give him a chill." My words came out harsher than I meant, envy taking over.  
"Oh shush, Alistair." Despite what she said, she moved closer to the fire, exposing him a little more. "What is the cause of this?" she asked, gently running her fingers of the bruising and small wounds on his arms.  
He squirmed a little at the contact, not enjoying it. Maybe we weren't so different after all.  
"It was there before I found him." My reply was defensive and a hard expression fell across my face.  
"It was only a question." She frowned too when he coughed, going somewhat limp. "Poor baby. Has he eaten?"  
"I don't know!" I shouted at her, stress starting to boil over.  
"Well, have you fed him or not?"  
"No! Of course not! How am I supposed to know when to feed him if he doesn't talk!?"  
She just looked at me before calling to Liam, her mate, instructing him to go to the market and return with something to eat.  
"Maybe he's not hungry," I muttered.  
"Or maybe he's a child and he's too traumatised to say something," she snapped back, rubbing her hand up and down his back. "It's okay, little one. We'll get you warm and fed and then we'll get you back to your parents."  
He looked up at her timidly, his cheeks flushed with fever now, and but didn't pull away like he did to me.  
"Can you walk?" She unwrapped him from my jacket completely and set him on the floor, holding his waist to make sure he didn't fall.  
"Should you not do that away from the fire?" I suggested. "He might fall."  
She just raised her eyebrows, releasing the child and he shakily remained on his feet. "Walk to Alistair," she instructed, turning him around and pushing him toward me.  
I knelt and held out my arms, expecting the worst and almost unwilling to look.  
He only stumbled once, not stopping until he was safely in reach and I held him again, looking back at her expectantly. I glanced up at her too, reading her expression.  
She was smiling widely, her eyes alive and excited, before rushing forward and stealing him from me. "Well done, sweetheart! I'm so proud of you!" She kissed his cheek and then his forehead, hugging him gently.  
He giggled quietly, the sound pretty and sweet like music or bells, before ducking his head to hide his face.  
Her smile started to fade. "He has a temperature."  
"I know. I told you that he was sick," I muttered flatly, my mood fraying each time she annoyed me.  
"Jesus, Alistair, give it a rest, alright? What is this temper you've developed?" Her smile was gone and she hid the child slightly behind her, as if I was an enraged animal crouched to attack. Truthfully I had no intentions to ever harm him; although I was unsure why, I would protect him with my life. My sharp remark was cut off by a small voice.  
"…Alistair…" he mumbled softly, trying to word for himself. His pronunciation was perfect, his accent matching my own.  
I grinned at Siobhan, triumphant. "He prefers me most. He can say my name."  
"My name is Siobhan. Can you say that?" she asked, pushing his hair off his face and holding her hand against his forehead. "He's really hot, Alistair," she whispered, too low for him to hear.  
He blushed, hiding his face again when he realised we were both focused on him. "…Sh...Shawn…" he shook his head, making her chuckle quietly.  
"That doesn't matter, love. Don't worry-"  
"…S-Siobhan…" He fumbled the word a little, but it was still recognisable.  
She hugged him again, laughing. "You're adorable. What's your name, little one? Can you tell me?" I suddenly realised that was what she was aiming for; by knowing us he might relax.  
"…Carlisle…" he whispered, hiding again.  
"And how old are you, Carlisle?" she continued, trying to keep him speaking. He seemed a little more relaxed now, almost as if he enjoyed being close to her. "How many years? Do you know?"  
He looked faintly bewildered, stammering before answering. "…One and…one and six…" he seemed confused by his own answer, glancing up at her again as if to see if he was in trouble.  
"One and a half?" I suggested softly.  
"One year and six months?" she asked him gently.  
He became wrigglier, evidently harder to hold without injuring, and his breaths caught in his throat.  
"Carlisle, shh, what's wrong, sweetie?" she tried to hold him still but he wouldn't have it, trying to get out of her arms. "Come now, what happened? Are you hurting?"  
He shook his head, his eyes wide with fright and his fingers in his mouth. "…don't know…" he whimpered softly, his voice trembling.  
"You don't know what, little one?" she pressed, repositioning him more comfortably.  
"…The answer," he told her, even more quietly. "I-I'm s-sorry- d-don't t-tell fath-er." The last sentence was broken by soft sobs, the tears that had threatened almost constantly since I found him overflowing.  
"Shh, it's okay, it doesn't matter." She spoke to him softly, rubbing circles into his back. "It doesn't matter at all."


	3. Chapter 3

**Alistair POV**

"He's seems…small for his age," Siobhan mused, attempting to coax the child to eat. Lunch had been hard, but dinner seemed almost impossible. Eating was the only task Carlisle was unwilling to do, although I was unsure whether it was due to his illness or whether he usually had an aversion to it.  
"Stunted," Liam grunted under his breath.  
She rolled her eyes. "Both of you men are insufferable at times."  
"All he does is cry and whine. I do not like small children. Let alone infants," he retorted.  
"He is hardly a baby, Liam. Little, yes, but he does not act that way. He has cried once since he got here; he is remarkably well behaved." She was standing behind the little blond child at the table, running her fingers through his hair. "He is smart too. Alistair, watch; we have a game, do we not, Carlisle?"  
He glanced up at me before returning his gaze to her, a small unsure smile on his face. My heart melted a little at the sight and it was all I could do not to rush forward to hold him again  
"Ready?" When he nodded consent, she laid six pieces of fruit along the table.  
Confused at what they were playing at, I waited.  
"Six," he mumbled quietly after a moment, watching her face again.  
"Yes!" She leant down and picked him up, ignoring the stiffness in his body and his obvious want to be put down again. Siobhan didn't seem able to keep her hands off the child. Granted, he was adorable, but she was almost obsessive. "We do need to feed you, though. Will you eat for me, sweetie? I need you to eat." She sat at the table, holding him on her knee as she pushed food onto a fork. "Please, Carlisle?"  
Carlisle became visibly anxious, tightly holding onto the hand she was supporting him with. He shook his head, swallowing a quiet sob.  
"Shh, come on, love, you need to have dinner."  
"He isn't feeling well, Siobhan," I grumbled shortly, taking in the child's flushed cheeks and overly pale complexion. He hadn't improved much since I had brought him here.  
He glanced up at her face as she sighed in frustration, obediently opening his mouth and letting her feed him. I wasn't sure the others were aware of it, but I could see fear in his eyes. The more he ate, the more fidgety he became.  
"Stop it," I snapped at her. "He doesn't want to." _Some friend she was. Hurting my child like that._  
She managed to feed him almost three quarters of the plate before he became too upset. "Four more mouthfuls, Carlisle, you can do that. You've hardly eaten at all today," she murmured to him, repositioning him on her lap.  
He started to choke on his cries, pulling at his clothing.  
I cringed away from the sounds of his distress. "You're upsetting him. Don't make me upset you," I threatened under my breath. She didn't respond but I knew she heard me from the stiffness in her shoulders. Unfortunately, she aimed the frustration she felt toward me at poor little Carlisle  
"Carlisle," she scolded. "Stop this." She forcefully pulled him back when he struggled to get down. "You may go when you're finished, child."  
At the tone of her voice he became quiet again, swallowing hard, and let her force more food into him. He started to squirm, uncomfortable.  
"Siobhan," I warned cautiously. "He's had enough. You're making him unhappy."  
She frowned. "He cant be full. He hasn't eaten half as much as other children his age do."  
"He doesn't like it. Just leave him alone." I stepped forward without wanting to, twitching to pick him up.  
"It's only a little bit more," she said stubbornly, her brow knotting. "Eat, and then you can go, Carlisle." She hugged him briefly.  
I winced as she squeezed him, knowing he wasn't comfortable. "I think you should stop. He's over full," I protested, stepping forward to take him from her.  
"Will you relax, Alistair? I've raised all my younger siblings. I know what children of this age are capable of," she snapped, glaring at me now, determination written across her face.  
It made sense, but something definitely wasn't right with him. To me, he seemed more uneasy than before. He squirmed as she scooped up the last of the food, nervously biting his fingers.  
I suddenly realised what was about to happen. "Siobhan, don't-" I started, but it was too late. The poor child threw up everything he'd just swallowed, and then struggled to hide his tears from us.  
"I'm out," Liam muttered, heading out the kitchen door.  
The more Siobhan tried to calm him, the more upset he became and I worried he would make himself sick again.  
"Give him to me," I told her bluntly, snatching him off her. As he held onto my clothing, hugging me, I grinned at her, triumphant. "He likes me best."  
She rolled her eyes, failing to hide a guilty expression. "Take him upstairs and try to calm him down. I'll clean up." She stood, pushing her chair back with her legs, and stalked out of the room.

"It's okay. I've got you now," I assured him, lying back on the bed and pulling up against me. "She doesn't know how to care for you, does she, my little one?" I spoke for her benefit, knowing she was listening from the kitchen.  
Sure enough, Siobhan retorted with a low growl, making Carlisle shudder and hide his face in my shoulder.  
"You're scaring him, bad mother," I chided, keeping my voice gentle to calm him again. Every time someone raised their voice, his pulse shot through the roof, almost to the point where it was a struggle for me to distinguish each beat from the last. Her growl was no exception. "Sleep, Carlisle, everything is going to be okay. Tomorrow we'll…I'll take you back to your family and…" My throat felt thick and I had to stop talking. _He has to go back. He's not yours_ , I reminded myself.  
When his body tensed I thought he might be sick again, but instead he emitted an almost silent sob.  
"Carlisle? What's wrong, buddy?" I shifted him so I could wrap my arm around him, his head against my chest. A satisfied warmth spread through me as he clung to the fabric of my shirt, despite the fact he was in tears again. _He wanted me._ "It's alright." I ran my hand up and down his back, unable to resist smiling as I listened to his breathing regulate again. He was still hot with fever and undoubtedly sleepy. Still though, his sobs only grew in frequency. "Shh, it's okay." I gently ran my fingers through his hair, marvelling at the softness of it.  
"…Alistair..?" he whimpered.  
I jumped in surprise, forgetting he could speak so fluently. "Yes, Carlisle? Are you not feeling well?"  
"…D-don't want to go…"His voice was barely a whisper.  
"Go where? We're staying here tonight, so that you can sleep." I picked him up, sitting him on my stomach so I could see him properly. "You don't have to worry, okay?"  
He melted, dissolving into tears. "I-I don't w-want to l-leave you…"  
It was all I could do not to cry too. "You family misses you, little one. I have to take you back."  
Carlisle shook his head, crawling up me to cuddle into my side again.  
"I need to take you back to your mummy and daddy," I reasoned.  
He didn't settle any, and by morning he'd barely slept a few hours. You could see he was exhausted just by glancing at him. He'd also developed a cough overnight, which in the early hours of the day became a problem, seeming to choke him every time it happened. It caused me more distress than I would like to admit to not be able to help him.  
"Siobhan, he's really not well," I murmured, holding him against my shoulder. He more unconscious than asleep, and each breath he took was jagged and tortured.  
"He needs to go back, Alistair," she insisted with a sigh, glancing over his fragile body. "He's so tiny. Can I hold him?" Once I had reluctantly nodded consent, she lifted him off me, hugging him close to her. As she kissed his cheek I saw a flash of longing across her face, the want for her own child. "Good bye, Carlisle, I'll miss you, sweetie," she told him as he glanced up at her.

It took me the best part of the day to locate Carlisle's home. The house was dripping with the sweet smell of him, much stronger than it should have, but I was unsure why. Once he had started crying, it was almost impossible to calm him down again; he was almost frantic.  
"No, Alistair!" he pleaded as I pulled him away from me, forcing his fingers off my shirt. I set him on the doorstep, anxious about being seen now; for sure his parents would charge out at the sound of their beautiful child's sobs. I knocked loudly on the front door before running into the night. From the shadows of a building I watched a man storm out, heard Carlisle's scream as he grabbed him, and suddenly knew why his scent was so strong here; blood. Carlisle's blood. Lots of it.


End file.
